To Be 70 But Younger
by Rubysky25
Summary: Tony Stark had never had a good relationship with his Father, which wasn't exactly a secret. But soon after Loki's attempt to destroy the world Steve Rogers, his father's favorite person, had decided to train Tony in hope that he'd be able to stay safe if he would ever have to fight without his armor. Tony doesn't think it'll make a difference, but he doesn't have much of a choice.
1. Chapter 1

"Stark, have you ever fought someone before?"

Tony looked up from the mess of screws and wires that was covering half of the dining room table. The American wonder boy, Steve Rogers himself, was sitting directly across from Tony, eating what had to be the 3rd omelet he'd had that morning and curiously watching Tony tinker with the Iron Man gauntlet.

"Of course I've fought someone_,"_ Tony said, irritated that he was interrupted from his work to be asked such a stupid question. He took a long drink of coffee, the bitter and piping hot drink burning his throat a little as it went down. "Maybe you should get your head checked out, Cap. We kind of just had that whole_ '_Thor's evil and fabulously dressed brother trying to take over the world' thing just a few weeks ago."

Steve coughed awkwardly and took a big bite of omelet. "No, I mean have you fought someone without the Iron Man armor on? I mean someone stronger than your boxing coach. Clint or Natasha, maybe."

"And why the hell would I do that?" Tony picked set down his mug and began screwing. "They'd beat the crap out of me unless I was wearing the suit."

"Actually, that's exactly what I'm trying to get at." Steve cleared his throat again and began fidgeting in his seat. _Someone's trying to play nice;_ Tony thought and chuckled to himself softly under his breath. It was the first real time they had talked since Loki almost destroyed the world other then how to work some kind of electronic or whether or not poking Bruce with things was classified as a sport. "I think you should start training without the suit more. Just think about it; what if your suit ever fails on you? What if someone is able to take it off of you? What would you do then?"

"That would never happen."

"But what if it did?"

"It won't."

Steve got up from his seat and leaned closer to Tony over the table. He spoke slowly and clearly, putting an emphasis on every syllable. "But what if it did?"

Tony put down his screwdriver and looked Steve in the eyes. Tony was aggravated. Not many people had the balls to stand up to him like that, to look him straight in the eye with that much authority. "Stark, I can't have you as weak as you are without your armor. What happens if someone stronger then Loki and his army attack, huh? What happens if they take your armor, or it fails on you, or it breaks? It's a machine, Stark, and even though I haven't been in the 21st century too long I know that even the most complicated machines can break if you know how to break them." Steve paused. "Or if you don't." He laughed softly and awkwardly, trying to break the tension by making fun of himself. He had broken almost every electronic device he touched since he moved into Avengers Tower.

He smiled slightly, an adorable, lop-sided smile that made Tony want to cuddle his face and smash a bottle over his head at the same time."I just think it might help a little of you tried to fight someone that's a little bit stronger than an average person."

The blond super solider picked up his plate. "Cap, I'm telling you, I don't need to. I can fend for myself. I'm not a child."

"I know you're not a child. I'm not doing this because I don't think you can hold your own ground, I'm doing this because I need you to stay alive. Everyone else has experience with hand-to-hand combat without full-body armor, you should have it too. Besides, what would the Avengers be without Iron Man?" Steve said and playfully smiled again, almost as if he was talking to a young fan of his that had asked for his autograph. Tony felt his chest tightened and his heart rate speed up. _Damn. He has such a cute smile._

…

_Shit._

"I'll meet you in the training room in 20 minutes."


	2. Chapter 2

The training area was huge, with walls made of unbreakable metals that curved into a high, arching ceiling just in case if someone somehow ended up being flung upwards during practice. The metal, which was painted a light and uninteresting beige, didn't look like metal, and gave the impression that the space was built with the intention of being a ballroom, only to have its purpose changed soon after it started to be decorated.

Tony hated that about the room; it was too elegant. It was an elegant gym, which he said was ridiculous and impractical. But Pepper, Tony's assistant, had insisted on it, saying that it would be a good idea for people to associate where the Avengers prepared to save lives with something professional. However 'professional' the room was suppose to be, Tony still had fun with it, installing music players, a TV screen larger than the ones at theaters installed in the wall at the north side of the room, and paid no expense on the best exercise and training equipment Stark Industries could buy. He would end up improving them anyways, but since exercise equipment wasn't exactly his forte buying something to start out with made it easier.

Usually, the idea of surrounding himself with his machines was sort of thrilling. It was the closest he figured he'd ever get to a religious experience. This, however, was an exception.

"Stark, you ready?"

Inside the ring Tony put on his boxing helmet and gloves, the low volume of the TV quietly humming the news in the background. He would say no, find a way to sneak back to his lab and spend the rest of the day alone with Black Sabbath playing so loud it pushes all the thoughts that aren't related to math and science out of his head, but he decided to say. Some part of his head told him to stay, although he wasn't sure if it was his ego was talking or because he kind of wanted to take a swing at this year's winner of 'People's Sexiest Man Alive'.

"As ready as I'll probably ever be. Quick question, though." He turned around, swinging his leg and rotating his body by spinning on the ball of his foot. "What's Clint doing here?"

Hawkeye smirked. He was sitting on the bench, leaning back on the palm of his hands. He was dressed for a work out, with dark blue tank-top and black running shorts that were graciously hugging his behind. "I really had nothing better to do. Natasha's on a mission. I was going to work out, but I think watching you learn how to fight without your armor would be more interesting." He smiled kindly, his face changing quickly from the slightly mocking grin. "If you need any help with this I'm here, Cap."

Steve beamed back. He was obviously appreciative of Clint's generosity, even though it was at Tony's expense. "Thank you kindly." Steve turned back to the millionaire and asked again if he was ready, his face still shining with positivity. Tony gulped hard, feeling his cheeks warm slightly. _He really is hot. I guess that__** is**__ what everyone told me when I was younger. God, he's gorgeous. Probably could get anyone to do anything for him. Especially if he dropped his pants._

"Yeah, I'm game." Tony felt guilty somehow. He never cared about someone's gender before; checking out guys wasn't what bothered him, especially considering he had a huge Captain America crush in his teens. He figured that his nerves right now was probably because of some deep physiological Daddy problem, but he didn't have time or a desire to think about that, let alone fix it. "Jarvis, play some music," Tony yelled, hoping it would get his mind of the depressing topic of his childhood. Steve's nose bunched up a little at this, expecting for ridiculously loud classic rock that would hurt his ears.

"Right away, Sir," the A.I. responded as music started to flow from hidden speakers. Not rock like Steve thought, but the soft tunes of something he might have listened to back what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"_Somewhere, beyond the Sea~ Somewhere, waiting for me~"_

"Jarvis, what the heck is this?"

"This is Frank Sinatra's cover of the Bobby Darwin song 'Beyond the Sea'. The original song is from 1946. Although that is a bit after Mr. Rogers could have heard it, I thought it might be of some sentimental value." Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Steve blush slightly.

"Put something modern on. Mr. Stars-and-stripes over here needs a lesson in what music's been like for the last 70 years."

"Actually," Steve said quickly and proudly, "Natasha was listening to music the other day and showed me some modern artists. I'm pretty fond of Lady Gaga." Tony's eyes widened with the thought of 'the star-spangled man with the plan' wearing a sparkly Lady Gaga two piece and dancing dramatically to Bad Romance. Clint had obviously done the same, because he had burst out in a fit of laughter.

Not really understanding why Clint was practically suffocating from laughing so hard or why Tony's face had gone redder than Natasha's hair, Steve stood awkwardly with his arms folded across his chest, his hands not quiet tucked under his elbows because of the bulky size of the boxing gloves he had on. "I-uh… If that doesn't work we could listen to Shakira. Natasha showed me her, as well."

Clint doubled over again and fell off if his seat, barely breathing in between cackles. Tony looked at Cap suggestively, seriously suppressing the urge to slap Steve on the ass and tell him that his hips didn't lie.

After a few seconds of embarrassed Steve, Clint was able to calm down enough to get back into his seat, and Tony eventually collected himself and moved to the center of the ring towards the blond, Frank Sinatra still singing in the background.

"_I know beyond a doubt, My heart will lead me there soon~"_

"Are you ready now, Stark?"

_No._ "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Alright. From what I've seen, you fight by tackling head-on or relying on whatever doohickeys you have in your armor. Now, have you ever actually been in a fight with someone other than your trainer without your armor?"

Tony stammered. He hadn't, but was way too proud to ever admit it. "Well, I-"

"Punch me."

"Punch you?"

"Yes, punch me."

Tony shrugged his shoulders. Cap's teaching style didn't really make sense to him, but he would never pass up a chance to prove his Dad's favorite person wrong. Starring Steve in the eyes, Tony slung his arm back and punched.


	3. Chapter 3

_Fuck fuck shit, shit fuck shit fuck fuck fuck. _Tony shook his hand inside his boxing glove. _Is it broken? No, not broken. Definitely bruised, though. Note to self: Cap's head can be used as a weapon._

"Stark, are you alright?" Tony looked up at the super-solider, still shaking the pain out of his right hand.

"Just dandy." Tony lunged again, pushing his protected knuckles against Steve's cheekbones with all his might. A sharp pain shot through his hand and up to his shoulder on contact. He punched again, using his left hand this time. Something cracked. Tony hit again and again with all his might. Steve's head would move, but there was obviously no sign of any damage. This wasn't working.

"Ok, stop. Stark, _stop it; _you're going to hurt yourself. I made my point." Tony didn't stop, but instead tried Steve's stomach. He hit muscle was thrown back a few steps. Something popped. "Tony, stop!" The millionaire lunged again, but instead of standing still Steve moved to the side and scoped Tony up. He held high him above his head. That far up all Tony was able to reach was Steve's hair, and even though Tony acted like he was 12 most of the time Steve figured that he wouldn't stoop so low he'd start pulling out hair.

"Cap, put me down!" He flailed, only causing Steve to dig his hands deeper into the tank-top Tony had on.

"Not if you're going to punch me again!"

Tony went limp, letting his legs and arms dangle to the side. His hands brushed against Steve's head, and he purposely swung his arm a little so the end of his glove would constantly hit the edge of Steve's nose. If he couldn't win against him the least he thought he could do was piss him off a little. "Fine, I promise I won't hit you. Now let me down before you break my back."

"I don't believe you."

"Cap, my neck is killing me. Just let me down. Or at least move your hand so I can lay my head on it." His voice was teasing, thinking that the man out of time wouldn't know what to do and let him down. A moment passed and Steve lowered him, but stopped at his chest and held him like someone would a child. Tony groaned unhappily. "You have _got_ to be shitting me."

"Your head's supported, isn't it?"

Steve turned around fast to look where Clint was sitting anxiously, whose hands were positioned near his thighs and had one leg on the chair incasehe needed to push himself to get into the ring. There was a pause.

"I really hope someone recorded that."

"You have no right to talk, Clint," Tony said and pointed the hand that Steve wasn't crushing at him. "You didn't even help."

"Help what? Help you try to break Captain America? That's a losing battle, Tony. Plus, what was I suppose to be doing? Cap obviously had everything under control. I think he can handle you without your armor."

Tony reddened with a mix of embarrassment and agitation. "If you were paying attention I was trying to win the match; I was not trying to break him or whatever other crap you're trying to feed me. I-" He wiggled. "Steve, let me down." Rogers obeyed, figuring if he was busy arguing he wouldn't hurt himself trying to prove an un-provable point. He set him down gently, as if he was putting down an injured animal.

As soon as his feet hit the floor Tony automatically hid his hand behind his back, took off his gloves, and began to stretch his bruised fingers outwards in an effort to stop the joints from locking. "You know what, Hawkeye? Why don't you get in here and go a few rounds with the oh-so-great Captain America." His voice was drowning in sarcasm as he said 'great', which made Steve cringe a little and wonder where the hidden hatred was coming from. Something had obviously hit a nerve, Steve realized, because Tony's face was turning a shade of red he had never seen before.

"Tony, you need to relax." Steve stepped into the large space between them and put his hand in front of Tony to stop him from moving, the tips of his fingers lightly grazing the arc reactor. Steve stared at him, giving the perfect _'I will tolerate no nonsense in this house, young man'_ look. "And Clint, stop teasing him. You are both grown men and you need to behave as such. We're here to help people, not hurt each other."

Tony stretched his back and sighed. "Yes, mom."

There was silence, and since nothing else would be happening that involved someone (mainly Tony) fracturing a bone, Clint plugged in his iPod and went to the corner of the room to lift weights.

"Tony, are you alright?" Steve put his hand on Tony's shoulder. They had stepped out of the ring, and Tony had swallowed the entire contents of his water bottle in one long gulp.

"Of course I am. I've handled a lot worse than that. Your check bones aren't exactly the equivalent of a nuclear weapon."

"Stark, I don't mean physically. I'm well aware you've taken a lot worst. I just… I know that you're not the most…"

"You're worried it hurt my ego."

"Well, um, yes, to be frank. I was good friends with your father and I know that he wasn't the humblest person you could meet, and things like this would sometimes bother him. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all."

Tony crushed his bottle, squishing it until the crinkled plastic left marks in his hand. He gulped and held his breath while talking, as if there was a little monster crawling up his throat that he was desperately trying to keep down. "I am_ nothing_ like my father. _Nothing. _I don't care how well you knew him, Rogers, you didn't have to have him for a dad. He was never there for me. I was always the burden, all the way up until both of my parents died." He threw the bottle on the floor and ran his hands through his hair. "But it's not like I'd expect you to understand, Mr. Perfect." He said this a lot softer, but with a strong feeling of bitterness. Steve was taken back. All of Tony's anger wasn't towards him at all. That wasn't even close to the truth. It was towards his father.

"You don't think I understand, huh?" Steve bit his tongue for a second, wondering if he should continue. Against what he thought was probably his better judgment, he did. "Both of my parents were killed in World War Two, Tony. I wasn't careful enough on a mission and my best friend died. He died because of _me, _and I couldn't do anything about it. I left the girl I loved waiting for _70 years_ until she died too. I led people to their deaths, Tony, do you seriously think I don't have my own fair share of dysfunction? The only difference between you and I is that I don't let it control my life." He chocked a few times while talking, holding back the same strong front he had been since he had gotten a letter from the army sending its condolences and announcing the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.

Tony wasn't looking at him. The only noise in the room was from the light clinks of metal coming from Clint as the weight got closer and farther to his chest. Both Tony and Steve knew he recognized what was going on. Even over ridiculous the volume he set his music player at, Clint was the most observant one of them all. Silently Tony thanked him for not forcing himself into someone else's problems like Steve was doing. "Tony, I'm sorry. I went too far."

Tony picked his deformed bottle off the floor and started to walk away. "I don't need this bullshit."

"God, Tony, wait!"

"Sir, if I may intrude for just a minute." Tony stopped and Steve jumped at the sound of Jarvis' voice, still not used to all of the new technology there was available in the 21st century. "There seems to be a bit of an issue in the city. There are creatures of an unknown species attacking tourists and buildings on West 47th street. There are no casualties yet, but there are seven injured."

Steve and Tony looked at each other, and in a single moment all of the personal problems seemed to temporarily fade away into non-existence. Because now, people's lives were at stake. People who they had never met before, but who were still living, breathing beings that needed their help.

"Can you fight?"

"Of course I can. It's just a bruise."

"Good. Put on the suit. Clint, let's go!" Hawkeye was already running out the door. Steve grabbed a communication device from his duffle bag and slid the cool, black metal over his ear. It made a small beep, informing the user that it was functional and had connected to the un-traceable Avengers communication network. "There's something attacking near Time Square, everyone. Five minutes and we all have to be there, no exceptions. Ten minutes for you, Natasha, fly fast and you should be here in eight. You all drill. Avengers, assemble!"


End file.
